


Grey Hairs

by lizardsonline



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Complicated Parental Relationships, Happy Ending, Jack Zimmermann Feels, Jack zimmermann turns 30, Light Angst, M/M, Modern Setting, birthday fic, breif mentions of suicide, canon typical language, mentions of nsfw, no corona 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25662817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizardsonline/pseuds/lizardsonline
Summary: Birthdays are complicated. They shouldn't be complicated, but they are.
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72
Collections: Jack Zimmermann Turns 30!





	Grey Hairs

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is in collaboration with the Jack Zimmermann 30th Bday Bash! a Big thanks to @creepergingergirl for being my beta as always.

For Jack, birthdays were never a huge thing. He celebrated them when he was a child, sure, but he never felt too much attachment to the fanfare. His first few birthdays were spent in Pittsburgh with his mom and dad. His younger birthdays usually involved receiving some toys and clothes, and cake with his parents. He would scoot and waddle around their nice home, nestled amongst the Alleghenies. One particular year when Jack was about four, his parents brought him to the Phipps Conservatory for his birthday, holding his hand as he ran around the giant indoor garden, staring at the bright colors and the ginormous glass ceiling that let in warm sunshine. 

As Jack grew older, and the Zimmermanns moved back to Canada, Jack left behind the days of the bright tropical flowers of Phipps, and pierogies from the Strip District, instead embracing the cold winters and Tim Hortons of Canada. At a young age the public eye paid keen attention to his budding abilities, and the shadow of his parents’ careers was just about looming overhead. He was still a chubby kid. He knew so. He had heard people whisper it, mention it, even outright say it his face. Journalists would call him an “ugly kid”, and openly ponder how two gorgeous people like his parents had such a plain looking child. Theoretically, Jack knew that his dad had looked exactly the same when he was his age, but they didn’t care. So Jack kept his head down and put more and more into hockey. By then, his birthday presents no longer resembled toy aisles, but rather started to look like stocks from equipment rooms and libraries. One eventful birthday an entire rink in their backyard. Of course, it was too hot even in Canada, to play hockey in early August, but the rink brought promises of winter revelry and, more importantly, more practice opportunities. It seemed as if the world  _ wanted  _ Jack to choose hockey. 

When Jack entered his teens, his birthday began to mark the start of preseason training, he always looked forward to it not to spend a day celebrating himself, but rather, to get back into the crux of his training. When he went away to the Q, he found himself under more stress and unable to focus on himself for any reason outside of hockey and being better. People started making comments that he looked and played just like his father. They expected him to follow in his footsteps exactly, to be just as good, if not better than the great Bad Bob. He had big shoes to fill. At the time, Jack didn’t know how he felt about that. Public scrutiny became harsher; there were more paps and more comments, eyes all over him. Even then, Jack knew he didn’t like that. 

One year, Kenny made him a cake. It was a little burnt, and it was from a box mix, and it wasn’t all that pretty, but it was heartfelt. And Jack thought it was the best cake ever. He ate the entire thing, but jokingly acted as if the entire action was begrudged. Jack did not remember the rest of that night. There were scouts everywhere then. That year, Jack’s birthday was less of a celebration and more of a countdown to the draft. 

The first birthday after Kent went to Las Vegas, Jack didn’t eat cake. He sat in a white room, with white bedsheets and stared out the window with white panes and white curtains onto the Canadian countryside. His parents called it a Happy Birthday, yet that year, Jack felt anything but. He felt overwhelmed and suffocated. Defeated. He was a failure, and everyone knew it. Kenny probably hated him but Jack just couldn’t bring himself to contact him. He was a coward. It had been less than two months since his overdose. At that point in time, it was hard for Jack to imagine many himself having any more birthdays. 

But like with many of the things Jack thought that year, fate intervened.

* * *

Sunlight shined brightly through curtains which had been pulled back on one side. Their muted greys juxtaposed the bright yellow sun coming through the exposed window. The one pulled back curtain shone light onto a left side of a king-sized mattress in a large, tastefully decorated room. On the walls, hung portraits of friends and family members, teammates, and geese alike. A tall Canadian blinked the sunlight out of his eyes, quite irked that it was, as he realized, a bit before his alarm was set to go off. 

Jack groaned in response to being woken up before his alarm. Despite what people said about him, he was not a morning person. But years and years of training early, A.M. flight times, and a hand few of checking practices had set his internal clock against what his heart desired. Jack Zimmermann was incapable of sleeping late. Even on his birthday. 

Jack sent a sparing glance to the half of the bed which hadn’t been illuminated by the rude sunlight, to where the softly sleeping (read: snoring) bundle of his husband lay, under what was a ridiculous amount of blankets for a North Eastern summer. He smiled fondly at the lump that was his husband, only slightly envying Eric’s ability to sleep in late, no matter the circumstances. Still, the fact of the matter was that sunlight or not, Jack was awake, and no amount of jealousy or wishful thinking would allow him to go back to sleep. Instead, he resigned himself to getting up and starting his day, no matter how early it was. He was also, as he only then noticed with a slight bit of fond irritation, that he was nearly dangling off the bed. Jack could only presume that had been pushed to the edge of the bed in the night by his blanket hoarder of a husband. He was fine, but sleeping half on/half off the bed was not exactly good for his spine. 

Jack sat up from bed and cracked his back. Despite it being the off season, his shoulder was still acting up a bit. Jack just considered himself lucky the injury hadn’t been career-ending. But still, it did make him feel a bit old. The fact that today was not just his birthday, but his 30th birthday did not do much to qualm his feeling of aging. He looked aside once more to Eric’s side of the bed. Eric always liked to call Jack an old man for being five years older than him and more than often Jack found himself getting along with older people, rather than those who were his own age. He was an old soul. 

Yet despite all the teasing from his friends, teammates, and husband that he was an old man, Jack found that he did not mind it all that much. He still looked quite young, even if he did bear a striking resemblance to his father. And his father for that matter, still looked very good for his age, only very recently having more gray than black tinge the croppings of his hair. True his nose was a bit out of shape from being broken more than one would care to admit, and there was a scar above his right brow from where a rouge blade had sliced his temple, but Jack still knew that his father was considered a very good-looking man. Jack felt he was blessed to have inherited his father’s good looks, despite the turmoil and stress the resemblance had caused him when he was younger, he was in a better place now, and more confident in himself as an individual, as well as a hockey player. Jack was grateful his nose was in better shape than his father’s, although there was no guarantee it would stay that way if his hockey career went on as long as his father’s did, the advantage being that Jack didn’t inherit his father’s proclivity towards violence on the ice. His fights were far and few between, and Jack prided himself on keeping things clean on the ice; both because he felt it a waste of ice time, and because it was one of the things that set him apart from his father’s legacy. Jack did have a scar on his chin from a rogue puck in his rookie year, but the mark had all but faded, and now was barely noticeable, even if one was looking for it. 

All these thoughts slowly floated through Jack’s sleep addled consciousness as he rubbed his eyes, and finally resigned himself to starting his day. Jack slipped his feet into the pair of slides he kept by the bedside, and made sure to quietly pad to the bathroom, so as to not wake his husband. He quietly went through his morning routine without really opening his eyes all that much, operating mostly on muscle memory. He was, after all, still quite tired. Making sure to be very quiet, he went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and then turned on the water to shower, and fully wake himself up. Once the water was properly warmed up to a temperature he deemed acceptable, Jack stepped under the warm spray, and let it wash away any semblances of grogginess that remained. He spent some time under the water, mostly enjoying the warmth and pressure as it rained down his limbs, relaxing his muscles. The heat worked into the aches and pains of his body that were caused by sleeping half on/half off his bed as he allegedly had the previous night, if his husband’s current starfish blanket board was anything to go off of. 

The relaxation and the warmth of the spray allowed his thoughts to wander and his mind to be put at ease. It was his 30th birthday. If someone had told 18-year-old Jack that in 12 years he would not only be alive and well, but a Stanley Cup Champion, the captain of an NHL team, and married to the man of his dreams, poor young Jack would hardly believe them. He truthfully was grateful for everything he had experienced. Jack knew that had he not taken that detour, he probably never would have met all the amazing people he called his friends, teammates and colleagues for that matter. He most likely would never have met his handsome and lovely husband, at the very least, not under the same circumstances. He might not even be a Stanley Cup Champion/ NHL captain that he is now had he not undergone serious mental health help and major personal character development. 

As Jack methodically began shampooing his scalp, he reminisced fondly on all the memories which had brought him to his current place in life: the welcoming arms of his entire team at Samwell that practically pried Jack out of his shell, allowing him to grow as a teammate, and a person, the amazing coaching staff he was fortunate to train under, both at Samwell and with the Falconers, his amazing husband, who had given Jack something outside of hockey, and of course his parents, who had not stopped believing in him since day one. Jack chuckled to himself when he realized his internal monologue was starting to sound like an award show acceptance speech. Of course, today was an achievement of sorts. He was entering into a new decade, and a new chapter. But the future could wait a bit, Jack thought. He needed to get out of the shower, as his fingers began to feel prune-like. 

Billows of steam opened from the sliding glass door as Jack slid it open and pawed for the towel he had placed on the rack next to the shower door. The cool air of the bathroom juxtaposed the hot steam of the shower he had just exited. Jack mentally cursed himself for forgetting to turn on the fan before he had showered, leaving the bathroom mirror completely fogged up. He flipped the switch and as the fan began to hum, grabbed his toothbrush and upturned the miniature hourglass Bits had gotten him early in their relationship. Bitty had realized the first time he spent the night in his apartment that Jack was the type of person to count out the dentists recommended full two minutes one was supposed to brush their teeth for. It was amusing to Eric who merely guessed the timing, and resulted in him calling his boyfriend an old man for the thousandth time. Despite the harmless teasing, was a cute and thoughtful gift that reminded him of Bits every time he used it. Bits had even made sure to include an identical mini hourglass saved specifically for roadies, and despite the teasing he got from Tater every time he used it, it always made him smile. 

When the two minutes were up, Jack quickly rinsed and peeked into the mirror, which was quickly clearing up from all the bathroom fog. As his visage came into view Jack did not pay too much attention to his appearance, rather, making sure to check his teeth for maximum cleanliness. He flossed his teeth and then made sure to moisturize. The memory of Bits’ voice scolding him for not taking care of his skin came to mind. 

_ “Listen here Mr. Zimmermann, if you can count out one hundred and twenty total seconds to brush every single pearly white in your jaw, then you can take fifteen more seconds to put some dang moisturizing lotion on your stupid handsome face.”  _

_ “Aww Bits you think I’m handsome?”  _

“ _ Amongst other things ya goon. C’mere”  _

Jack recalled that the rest of the evening had been a blur of kisses and hands and a whole lot of other things. Just the memory of that evening was making Jack blush and feel stirrings in his groin. Jack quickly shook his head as if to shake the memory out. There would be time for that kind of fun later. But Jack knew Bits had made plans for the two of them to celebrate his birthday during daylight hours, and later that evening they had friends/family coming over for a small get together. Jack ever the introvert had never truly been fond of large or boisterous parties, but he was comfortable in the knowledge that every person coming this evening was someone he cared for deeply. 

The mirror was now completely clear of any post-shower fog and Jack set on fixing his hair. Despite Bit’s insistence that bedhead was cute, he wanted to look at least a  _ little  _ put together for his special day. Jack grabbed his comb and the little jar pomade shaped to resemble a hockey puck that Shitty had gifted him for Christmas. His bangs laid flat on his forehead from the shower, so Jack scooped a bit of the product and tussled it lightly through the top, making sure to work it into the ends just like Bits had showed him. His focus was trained so intently on making his bangs get out of his face that he almost didn’t notice the flash of silver when he combed through the top. The second time he passed over the section he froze in place, hands still mid-way through combing the section. He shook his head a little bit, almost as if in disbelief at what he was seeing. Jack momentarily closed his eyes then slowly blinked twice, hands still frozen in place. He slowly placed his hands on the counter. 

“My hair is grey.” Jack stated almost to himself, as if he was speaking the grey into existence.

“Shit. My hair is grey.” Jack repeated once more, this time a bit louder. He didn’t break eye contact with the man in the mirror, who was beginning to warp eerily into a replica of his father, not that there seemed to be much of a difference between the two men at the moment. 

There was a sinking feeling beginning to manifest in his gut as Jack stared down what to him was his father’s reflection. His thought began to race and his heart rate seemed to spike for a moment or two but after what seemed like an eternity, he blinked. 

Jack broke eye contact with his visage, taking a moment to breathe in, holding it, and then slowly letting it out, in counts of four. This went on for a minute, until Jack was sure he had brought his heart back to a normal pace. Jack slowly put the pomade in the top counter drawer, and placed his comb back into the mirror cabinet. He walked out of the en suite bathroom, entering back into the bedroom. 

The sun was now completely risen, and almost fully illuminating the room, safe for the section still covered by the closed curtain on the one all. On the far side of the room, the shape of Bitty was bundled under the covers, still lightly rising and falling, indicating that Bits was most likely still asleep. Jack walked over to the bed, sitting down on what remained of his side of the bed. 

“Bits, wake up.” He lightly shook the sleeping lump. When there was no response, he shook again, this time with more vigor. “Bits, c’mon wake up.” 

Slowly, the lump rose and the blanket mass was shed to reveal a sleepy Eric Bittle-Zimmermann, rubbing his eyes, as he stretched out and yawned. After a moment, Bitty glanced at Jack with a fond look, and smiled. “G’mornin handsome. Happy Birthday sweetpea.” The sleep was still evident in his voice, as the words came out softer and groggier than Bits’ usual tone. 

“Bits look at my hair.” 

Bitty blinked at his husband, then cocked his head, and smiled lightly. “It looks quite handsome hun. Did you use that pomade Shitty got you again?”

“Yes but that’s not important right now. Bud, look at my hair.” Jack only asked again, emphasizing the last few words.

“It looks like, your hair love, I don’t know what to tell you?”

Instead of responding, Jack placed his hands at the part and leaned in to show his husband what he meant, pointing directly at the area in question. Yet, rather than the pity, or disappointment, Jack expected his husband to show, Bitty’s eyes looked excited, in more way than one if he knew his husband. 

“Oh honey, why didn’t you show me in the first place. Lord, I already thought you were the sexiest thing this side of the Mississippi but this only makes it better.” 

“What?” Was the only thing Jack could muster in response.

“How is it that I’m the one getting a present when you’re the one whose birthday it is.” Bitty gushed, seemingly woken up by the excitement. Bitty climbed fully out of the rest of his blanket nest and into his husbands lap, wrapping his arms around him, and placing kisses on both his cheeks and then his lip. 

“So wait, you’re not upset that I’m turning into my dad?” 

“You really think I’m that shallow?” Bitty rhetorically joked in faux offense. “Sweetpea, a couple of things: Firstly, your father is a  _ very _ handsome man, so you resembling him even more than you do now would not be the tragedy you seem to be making this out to be. Secondly, and most importantly bud, you are your own person. You showing signs of aging is not ‘turning into your dad’, it’s your aging. You are a whole being with your own features and your own life and your own existence, so no matter what people may say, Jack you are you, not your father, even if you look a little bit like him. And thirdly,” Bitty paused and looked Jack up and down, “I did not have wet dreams about Anderson Cooper for most of high school for you to be all up and thinking I would not enjoy this new silver fox look you have going on. Salt and pepper ain’t just good on eggs. It suits you handsome.” 

Jack chuckled and smiled at his husband. “Thanks Bits. I should’ve never doubted you.” 

“Honest to god Jack, I’d love you no matter what. And if you really don’t like it, we can call the salon and make an appointment with a stylist to take care of it before anyone even notices.” 

Jack paused for a long moment, thinking the possibility over. He knew he wouldn’t be the first of the guys in the Falcs to go grey, and he wouldn’t be alone in getting rid of the grey if he did. But as he mulled over the options, the idea of his age showing didn’t seem to bother him as much as he thought it would. It fit with his old soul, a match enjoyed more and more as he thought on it. 

“Hmm, maybe later, but for now, I think I’ll keep it. Plus, you seem to like the look.”

Jack felt his husbands eyes looking him up and down, as if he was undressing him mentally. “That I do sweetpea. That I do.”

“By the way, I don’t remember you ever telling me you used to have wet dreams about Anderson Cooper.” Jack smirked

“Don’t make fun of me! He is a very well-spoken, well-educated,  _ respectable  _ man!” Bitty scoffed, then paused momentarily before looking away from Jack, adding “...and he’s also really sexy.”

“Is he sexier than say, the sexiest thing on this side of the Mississippi?” Jack joked. 

Bitty rolled his eyes dramatically in response. “Augh well I never!”

“I’m just messing with you bud. Thanks for everything.” 

“Y’know this is only the start of your birthday, just wait til the rest of today, but in the meantime…” Bitty dropped off, taking another glance up and down Jack’s pajama clad body. “We don’t have to be anywhere for another two hours so…”

“I think that would be an excellent way to start my birthday” Jack responded

  
  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> please comment and kudos i feed off of internet interaction  
> find me @lizards-online on tumblr!


End file.
